Sin With a Scoundrel (The Husband Hunters Club 4)

Will shook his head. “They were where they said they were. Too many people saw them, even allowing for confusion.”

“This Captain chap is clever,” Sir Henry mused, “too clever to fire off a shot. I just don’t believe he’d do something to draw attention to himself.”

It was what Richard had thought all along.

“Get Branson in,” Richard instructed Will. “If he’s the one who shot Sir Henry, we need to break him.”

And if they did it quickly enough, then perhaps Richard could spend some time with Tina.

Chapter 28

Anne and Charles were strolling alongside the river, and Tina dropped behind to give them some privacy. The way Charles hardly took his eyes off Anne made her wonder if at last he was about to propose; she just wished he’d get on with it. At that point Horace, somewhat to her alarm, joined them.

“Not too warm for you, Tina?” he said, adjusting the tilt of her parasol with a frown. “This weather can’t last much longer.”

Tina hoped he was wrong. Her time at Arlington Hall had been something she would never forget, and when she let her memory wander back along these paths, it was to a backdrop of blue skies and sunshine. Perfect days without a hint of rain.

As they walked she found herself relaxing in his company, returning to the way she used to feel long ago, when they were friends, and before she made her husband-hunting plans. Perhaps it was her own fault everything had changed, and she couldn’t entirely blame Horace.

“Do you think we can be friends again, Tina?” he said, as if he’d read her mind. “I miss our friendship.”

Tina met his blue eyes. He was a handsome man, but his good looks left her unmoved. She knew now she’d never marry him, even if he asked, but that did not mean they could not still be friends.

“I hope we can,” she said.

“I haven’t been quite myself these past days. I don’t know what got into me, but I’m sorry if I’ve caused you any upset. We’ve been friends for so long, and I don’t want to lose you.”

He sounded sincere, and she was touched. She reached out to take his hand, squeezing it warmly. “I don’t want to lose you either, Horace. We are almost like brother and sister.”

Something in his eyes told her that wasn’t quite what he wanted to hear, but he smiled anyway and returned the pressure on her hand.

“Can I confide in you, Tina? I want you to understand the reason I haven’t been quite myself. I met a woman, a married woman.” He grimaced at her shocked expression. “I suppose this isn’t the sort of thing I should be telling you, but I want you to understand. I visited her several times while her husband was away, and then she came to see me. Do you remember the night of my soiree?”

Tina remembered only too well. That was the night she tried to make Horace notice her by behaving rather recklessly, and the same night she had drunk too much champagne and met Mr. Little. There had been a moment when Horace had seemed uncharacteristically upset, now she came to think of it.

“She came to tell me that she was having a child. My child. She had barely left my house when I had to go and play host and pretend nothing was wrong.”

Tina’s eyes grew big. “You have a child, Horace?”

“Yes.” He sighed. “But I will never see him—I think of it as a son. She’s made that plain.”

“Do you want to see him?” Tina said curiously. Horace a father? Well, stranger things had happened.

“At first I didn’t but now . . . Well, it is my own fault, I suppose, that I have been separated from him. I’ve learned my lesson.”

Had he? Somehow Tina doubted that Horace would ever change. Her temptation to tell him all about her own problems faded. What was the point in sharing disasters? Horace must sort out his own life, and so must she, and besides, she didn’t want to dwell on that today. She wanted to enjoy herself before it was time to leave tomorrow.

One more day of freedom. One more day of Richard.

Before she faced the bleak reality of her situation.

Charles and Anne had stopped and were watching as Lady Isabelle directed some servants to wheel the bathing machine out into the river. She noticed them, and called, “If anyone wants to bathe, there are costumes in the pavilion. Do give it a try, it is very invigorating.”

Horace shuddered, but Margaret Allsop and her American beau had paused to watch, too, and he was encouraging her to join him in the water. In no time they were splashing about, teeth gritted, and when Margaret climbed out she looked blue. The ever-attentive Joseph Freer bundled her up in a blanket.

“You aren’t bathing, Miss Smythe?” It was Mr. Little, who had been standing behind her, also observing the happy couple. His smile appeared genuine enough, as if Margaret’s fickle heart did not bother him on

e bit, but Tina could not help but wonder if it was a veneer. Surely any man would be wounded to see the woman he’d begun to think was his own enjoying herself with another.